Three Summoners, One Rift
by WaddleBuff
Summary: Each Summoner infatuated with a particular female Champion, the three of them decide to have something special in store for these Champions as they Summon them onto a Summoner's Rift that is utterly dark and lonely, with no witnesses except the perpetrators. But will this experience help the three women bond? Or will it scar them for life? Dedicated to Cerallius.
1. Flesh and Blood

It took several months of careful planning. Meticulous, careful planning.

Driven by perverse motives and their "love" of three particular Champions, three Summoners banded together to formulate a night they would never forget.

Prior to their covert meetings within each other's quarters, drawing charts, writing out scroll after scroll of magical incantations, the three were nothing more than acquaintances. To be curt, the three gravitated towards each other because of a common cause.

Considering the cause itself, it is no surprise how much work and determination the trio invested inside the endeavor. None of them really proposed the idea first, it merely manifested among them, like a flame on a dry prairie on a hot summer day.

This must have begun when the three of them discovered each other's deep passion for their main Champions. Each one was infatuated to their respected female, almost to the point of obsession.

One of these particular mages was completely besotted with a certain blue-haired Maven of the Strings. Although the woman had apparently already chosen a man of her own, he paid no heed to this and continued to follow her through the halls of the Institute, loving her unconditionally. To him, she was perfect, her soft face, her ample breasts, her innocent smile, everything a woman should have, she had.

Then there is the second Summoner, who was indefinitely smitten with a fair-skinned ninja, whose other name was the Fist of Shadow. He had fallen for her and her cold demeanor since the first day she and her fellow Kinkou had stepped foot into the Institute of War. He adored her piercing green eyes, her slender yet strong arms, matching with perfect legs that were just as slender, and just as strong. He longed to touch her silky white skin, the pallor of which would cause blood to rush to his johnny.

And finally, the last Summoner, who was head over heels in love with a black-haired, Nine-Tailed Fox. Him, like his colleagues, had fallen for her as soon he saw her stroll the halls of the Institute on her first day. Her tails and ears, although strange to other men, merely added to her charm to him. He didn't mind at all that she was technically an animal, her perfectly sculpted body and seductive demeanor caused his heart to try to escape his chest as it beat inside of him like a jackhammer. Not a day passed when he didn't have her image in his head as he spent quality time with himself after a long day of Summoning.

But alas, these three had another thing in common; their social skills, especially with women, were nothing but pathetic.

They could only watch with deep envy as other Summoners approached their Champions, speaking casually and sometimes, much to their enragement, even flirting.

But finally deciding that the barrier of social inability was something that could be broken, the three decide to express their feelings in another way, much in the same way as murderers show love to their victims, or rapists show love to theirs.

When taken into retrospect, the plan was simple. As soon as the Summoning hours of the day were concluded, the three would immediately create a custom match, which was easily done when considering the high level of security clearance the three possessed; another advantage.

No permission from the higher authorities was needed, no necessary incantations to activate the turrets, the inhibitors or the Nexuses. No summoning was necessary for the shopkeepers, the mysterious voice of the announcer, or the jungle.

All that was needed was the three female Champions in question, and an empty Rift. As to what would become of these three unlucky women is up to your imagination, but I am sure that you can figure out that it is quite lewd.

Now there lay a few challenges in their way. Difficult and intricate Summoning incantations were required to forcefully Summon Champions when they were not located within the Summoning Chamber adjacent to the Summoning Chamber for the Summoners.

This, and the fact that they had to somehow bypass the surveillance wards of the rift, were the only challenges present. But as almost required with every challenge that is few in number, these two challenges were very daunting.

But nothing could stop the triumvirate from achieving their goals, so quickly the three set to work after the layout of the plan.

Now, we observe them in their final preparations, the night before their planned romp.

* * *

In the center of a candlelit room, the walls seeming to vibrate slightly from the flickering of orange candlelight, three hooded figures hunch over scrolls and parchments, their hands constantly in motion as they right indecipherable text onto the paper.

A large amount of the paper rolls off of the table, touching the floor. This sight is strange indeed, considering that Summoners often seldom wore their hoods indoors, other than when summoning during battles on the Fields of Justice.

Nothing can be heard except the incessant _scritch-scratch _of their feather-quilled pens finishing the last pages of incantations with faintly glowing arcane ink. Their concentration is fully dedicated to the task at hand, not even a word uttered between them as they continue to write, _scritch-scratch._

Finally, several hours into the night, the sun preparing its descent over the upper slopes of Mount Targon, the three simultaneously slam their pens down onto the parchment, finished with their hard work.

The trio sits in their wooden chairs, sharing looks with one another, their fingers recovering from the nonstop work they had to endure the entire night. Slowly, the dull eyes of concentration begin to light up between the three of them, grins slowly curling on their lips.

Then, with a victorious whoop, they all jump out of their chairs, yelling victoriously. An almost innumerable amount of time and effort had been put into this endeavor, and they had already finished the true "hard work". All that was needed now was to read off the ancient words off the parchments, summoning their love interests into the Rift.

Several minutes pass with the pale-skinned Summoners running around the room, exchanging high-fives and acting like complete idiots. Finally, the trio tires out, sitting themselves down on the bed to rest. The experience of writing down roll after roll of incantation for months on end had bonded the three together; before, they were just strangers with a common cause. Now, they were true friends.

With huge grins on their faces, their minds begin to cloud and fog over with depraved thoughts of the actions they would commit the next night on the empty Summoner's Rift.

Everything would be dark; the usual glowing Nexus and Inhibitors would be nothing but dark stones, the torches lit with fire dim. The only light would be emanating from the ethereal blue emanating from the tiles of the spawn pool, a blue circle in the midst of black. There the three Champions, wearing whatever they were wearing before they had been Summoned, would be forced to do whatever the Summoners wanted them to, everything recorded by a Vision Ward placed nearby for later use.

Suddenly, all three of them jolt up with a start, sharing looks of shock.

They had forgotten to write the Summoning incantation for the recording Vision Ward.

* * *

_Hurgha. This. This was written with lightning fingers, for I was given a one-hour time limit to write this first chapter. Anyway._

_As mentioned in the summary, this is a birthday present to the one and only Cerallius, my mentor, surrogate-internet-father, and friend._

_Happy Birthday master, and I hope you enjoy my work for you._

_Haven't written a short one-shot in a while, so prepare yourselves for the next chapter! _

_Excelsior!_


	2. Sacrifice

_Of all the muses I could receive from the writing gods, I get one for this bizarre fanfiction._

* * *

"_Hyah!_"

Akali threw one last shuriken at the dummy in front of her, the thrown projectile embedding itself into the body of straw with a faint _shnk_. Her posture remained mid-throw, her arm extended forward, one of her legs planted on its toes. Her chest heaved with every heavy pant, sweat glistening on the larger portions of visible skin.

She had spent the entire evening within the training chamber, slicing and dispatching straw dummies fitted with runes that enabled them to move, react, and even counterattack like a sentient warrior.

The dummy in front of her fell to the wooden floor with a thud. Her eyes maintained contact with the dummy as it slowly began to fade away, stored through some arcane process to be used again.

With that, Akali straightened herself, suddenly aware of her current position. Breathing a satisfied sigh, the ninja clasped her hands together, reaching to the ceiling with her eyes closed. She stretched as far as she could go, small trails of perspiration traveling downward below the bottom hem of her sports bra, joining other rivulets of sweat crawling beneath the tight spandex training shorts hugging her thighs. Several kunai and shuriken were strapped around her thighs, their grey steel surface refusing to echo ambient light of the chamber.

Her wet skin complied, refracting light freely , small diamonds twinkling on a peach-colored canvas. Her body quivered slightly from the stretch, a hint of a whimper escaping through her nose as her heels almost left the ground. Her ribcage poked through her abdominal muscle, the curvature of her smooth stomach allowing drops of sweat to make a detour through her navel.

Akali finally sighed contently, opening her emerald eyes. Her muscles relaxed, the her posture retaining its usual straightness. She took a step towards the exit before pausing and eyeing a straw dummy standing next to her. She tsked.

The dummy's blank visage mocked her. How could she have forgotten to dispatch it?

Scolding herself, Akali channeled her annoyance into a quick roundhouse kick, her right foot making contact with the dummy's head. She watched as the straw figure toppled to its left…and rose back up again to shoot forth with its head rushing towards her.

Only a fraction of a millisecond was reserved for surprise, Akali's body instantly dodging the attack with nimble footwork.

The dummy didn't have a chance to face her again.

Before it could recuperate from its charge, Akali drew three kunai in between her fingers. She threw them full force at its back, the projectiles embedding themselves into the straw with a quick, almost instantaneous succession.

Landing on her feet, Akali breathed a sigh of relief as the straw mannequin fell to the ground, fading to thin air. She took another wary glance around her before resuming her route to the exit of the training chamber.

In her mind's eye, she visualized the steam shower room, its hot water washing away her sweat and all of her troubles. Akali's gaze had inadvertently transfixed itself to the door before her, its purpose suddenly morphing to an entrance, not an exit; an entrance to much-needed relaxation. But before her hand could even reach the door's handle, Akali's progress halted, her feet planted to the floor mid-stride, snared.

Eyes widening in panic, she struggled against the invisible restraints, hands instinctually reaching for the weapons strapped around her legs. To her shock, she found that they too couldn't move. Several blue rings of light suddenly encircled her, a large beam of arcane energy focused down onto her body. The rings closed in on her, growing smaller with every second. She felt herself being transported somewhere else, the room around her fading to cerulean.

In a flash, Akali disappeared, transported to Summoner's Rift.

* * *

Sona squinted at her fingers. Several faint scars and remnants of blisters interrupted the flawlessness of her skin. They would fade soon with the healing magic she had underwent a few hours prior, but their mere presence still irritated her. Her thoughts drifted to the day's events.

Who in their right mind would equip her with items such as Black Cleaver, Bloodthirster, and a Phantom Dancer? Granted, she had carried her team to victory; her power chords, critical hits, and massive damage crushed the opposition. But the cost of such a victory-blistered, cut, almost bloodied fingers- overshadowed the victory itself.

"_Eep!_"

The maven squeaked telepathically when the hot water at her feet suddenly dragged her back into reality; the bath she had been preparing had overflowed. Frantically turning the faucets to halt the torrents of water, Sona heard her boyfriend call out to her from the bedroom.

"_Is everything all right?_"

Giving one last turn, Sona rolled her eyes before replying coldly,

"_Splendid, dear. I just got distracted from the cuts on my fingers._"

The response from the bedroom was silence, a guilty gulp coming from her boyfriend lying on the bed.

Sona shook her head. Of all the Summoners in the Institute of War, the fact that her own boyfriend was the guilty party for the pain induced to her fingers made her simmer.

But, what's past is past.

The current priority was the steaming, inviting bath before her. Sona bent over, dipping a finger into the water. A grin curled on her lips, and already the frustrations of the day began to ebb away. The warmth seemed to pull her in, her leg raised to immerse itself inside of it. Before her foot could even submerse itself beneath the surface of the bath, she suddenly retracted, remembering the white lingerie still clinging to her body. She tsked.

Reluctantly walking away from the warmth, Sona reached over to a nearby counter for her hairpin. Without the magical aura of her Etawhl, gravity acted upon her entire body as it usually would, her feet touching the ground. Her teal locks were free from their usual restraints, their golden tips reaching her waist.

Lengthwise, the large hairpin was about twice as long as her hand. It was ivory, the rich white almost lost in the heavy steam that was idly floating about the small bathroom. Sona twirled the memento between her fingers. Besides her Etwahl, it was the about the only possession she had owned before being adopted by _ Buvelle; a piece of her past, something that had known her longer than she knew herself.

Sona slipped through the clutch of questioning, through allure of the dark veil concealing her past. The task at hand needed attention, and the bath was getting cold.

Both her hands recruited for the effort, Sona reached up to tie up her hair, bunching it all up together with skilled fingers. The hairpin found a temporary home between her lips, waiting to be embedded between tresses and curls of blue.

Sona studied herself in the large mirror before her, the yellow, almost lemon-hued tips of her hair already lost in the light blue of her bundled locks. The bangs that usually covered one of her eyes were also brushed up with her hand, positioned expertly for the hairpin to support.

Steam began to condense on her skin, small, miniscule droplets of water beginning to form along the curvature of her supple breasts. Some of them gained enough mass to be pushed by gravity, the droplets rolling until being absorbed by Sona's tight-fitting bra. As more time was consumed by the task of tying up her hair, more droplets began to emulate the path of the water on her breasts, water conjoining with sweat to traverse her wide hips, tracing the floral lace designs of her panties. A few droplets even dared to crawl along her raised arms, teasing the maven when they arrived at the sensitive area of her armpits.

Finally, Sona held her bundled hair in its entirety, keeping it together whilst extracting the hairpin from her mouth to stick it into the bundle of hair atop her head. Upon embedding the ivory shard inside her cerulean curls, her hands went to their sides. She smiled at her reflection, brightening up the whole ambiance of the room with the curve of her lips.

She always loved wearing the hairpin, ever since she was a little girl. Its value was so great that she would never dare bring it with her onto the Fields during battle. It was only during times of leisure that she enjoyed its company.

Satisfied that her hair wouldn't get wet during her bath, Sona's arms reached up again, her fingers going over her shoulders. She grabbed a hold on the clasp of her bra, longing for her chest to gain some freedom from their constraints.

Then, her fingers wouldn't move. They stayed where they were, disinclined to follow her will. Her eyes widened with shock. What was this? A stroke? No, she was too young. But then again, she was what people would classify as overweight…

Then suddenly her arms couldn't move. In sudden panic, Sona tried to move her legs.

Same result.

With that, blue arcane rings encircled her, a concentrated beam of energy whisking her away from the warmth of the bath, and desired relaxation for the night. The bathroom became silent.

"_Hey, Sona? You all right in there?_"

The Summoner lay in the bed with his hands clasped behind his head. He still felt guilty about the match with his girlfriend, and wanted to make it up to her. He awaited a response from behind the bathroom door, but could only hear the flame of an arcane torch beside the bed.

He sighed.

"Guess it's the silent treatment again tonight."

With that, he rolled over to his side and tried to find sleep.

* * *

Ahri bit her lip, a seductive glaze occupying her golden pupils.

The ceiling did not reciprocate with any reaction.

Ahri groaned. Her tails where spread out amongst her satin bedsheets, their whiteness contrasting the black of her babydoll nightgown. A one particular tale was coiled around her right leg, fighting and struggling against itself. Its tip teased the top hemline of Ahri's matching lace panties, but entrance into her forbidden area was denied by self-restraint.

She writhed. Her hands clenching and unclenching, fingers grappling the sheets of her bed. Her furry ears twitched erratically.

Another long day had past, and with an entire month going by without any sexual activity, the days for Ahri seemed to get longer.

She had entered the League just for this particular reason, this _hunger_. Of course, the hunger prior to her admission was something of a different nature entirely, but lust was still involved. She wanted to become a true, honest-to-gods human, and if she was going to attempt such a feat, Ahri knew the lust for flesh and carnal satisfaction needed to be curbed.

However, this was easier said than done. Sure, her tendency for devouring and collecting souls had nearly disappeared, but living within the Institute had its temptations.

Oh, so many temptations; the fact that her preferences were never bound by gender or even species didn't help.

During her stay within the dormitories, Ahri had found it almost too easy to lure anyone (or anything) she desired into her bedroom, the magical attributes of the aphrodisiac hardwired into her bodily fluids almost a guarantee to a night of carnal satisfaction. But for some reason, during the past month, these nights became hard to come by. Even the droves of adoring Summoners were always somehow busy or occupied by urgent appointments (not that any one of those mages could satisfy her; most of them were overweight, teenaged virgins anyway).

By now, she was desperate.

So desperate, in fact, that she was willing to pleasure herself.

Although the act of pleasuring oneself is something that certainly could be attributed to the nine-tailed fox, Ahri had sworn years before that she would not lower herself to commit such a degrading act. Why would she ever need to?

She never expected a drought this long to occur.

She groaned again, rolling over to bury her face into a pillow. Tonight was probably one of the worst nights to be cursed with a fox's ears. In other words, she heard everything. Ahri desperately tried to dampen the echoes of Institute nightlife, her hands attempting to aid her endeavor by cupping themselves over her ears. However, eight fingers, a few bones, skin, measly flesh, and two opposable thumbs were not enough to halt her retrieval of subconsciously desired sound.

With every passing second, her arousal heightened, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. She heard it all; every footstep, every opening door, every ruffle of fabric, every intimate touch of skin on skin, every passionate kiss, every breathy moan. It was during times like this that Ahri desired human ears.

Suddenly the fox moaned, her defenses crumbling to dust. During her musings, the tail coiled around her leg had lost its battle, its tip gripping the hem of her panties whilst tickling her moist entrance. Ahri rolled over, her back arching when the tail teased her further. An animalistic urgency filled her psyche, her golden eyes suddenly glazed over.

Everything else was forgotten as her hands quickly shed the black babydoll top, the lace hastily tossed aside, baring her breasts and abdomen.

Her vision blurred, her movements turning erratic.

Her body shut down all of the moralistic functions and all centers of pride: she needed pleasure, and she needed it now.

Soft orange candlelight from the overhead chandelier illuminated her bareness; her breasts rising and falling with every deep breath, her smooth legs shifting with the electric pulses shooting through her nerves. Ahri's left hand, along with her nine tails, gripped the bed for dear life, her raw wanton desire seemingly attempting to sweep her away.

In the meanwhile, the digits of her right hand gripped her black panties, finishing the work of the tail still coiled around her thigh. Her mouth was left agape with the amount of oxygen she inhaled, each breath-no matter how deep and how much it filled her lungs-never seemed to be enough. Slowly, her arm quivering from some desperate weight placed upon her bones, Ahri peeled the undergarment downward, the lace rolling itself into a bundle of black cloth. Gradually her moistness was revealed, its lips glistening slightly in the ambient lighting of the bedroom.

Ahri left her panties clinging to her upper thighs, disregarding them as her fingers moved to her womanhood. She shivered in anticipation as one of her lithe fingers traced the outer edges of her opening, a small trickle of her clear essence leaking out from its depths. Her entire hand proceeded to smooth over the pink folds, applying a small amount of pleasure to stimulate more fluids to seep out from inside. By now the fox was panting, an almost imperceptible sheen of sweat occupying the skin of her neck.

She brought her hand to her mouth, slowly licking the fingers before hastily engulfing all five digits within. She gasped and writhed at the taste of her own essence, imagining it was the taste of someone else's. The fist that was grappling her bed sheets moved repositioned itself, opening up to allow its fingers to grapple Ahri's breast instead. The fox let out a breathy groan, as her left hand massaged one of her mounds, pinching and providing extra attention to the teat's erect nipple. Ahri's right hand rolled itself in and out of her mouth, the fingers moistened with saliva. Her lips occasionally enclosed around the digits, sucking every morsel of juices clinging to the skin.

Ahri moaned louder this time, her arousal flatlining at its peak. Extracting the hand from her mouth, she positioned them below again, her index finger and middle finger at the forefront. Hastily she inserted them inside of her moistness, eager for stimulation within. She flopped her head to the side, the ears atop her head twitching as her fingers caressed her inner walls, wriggling in circular motions. Ahri bit down on her lip, swallowing a groan as she pinched her nipple vigorously, the hand in her private areas emulating its intensity.

She quickened her right hand's ministrations, adding another finger inside of her womanhood. Already the fingers had become sticky, glistening with her inner juices. Ahri's body moved as a wave, cresting itself at every small pinnacle of pleasure before crashing down onto a soft bank. Her back arched, with every gyration of her fingers, a stain accumulating below her entrance as more of her essence leaked out as time went on.

Ahri brought her hand to her mouth again, the fingers keeping minimal contact with her skin, leaving a clear trail on her bareness before finally touching her tongue. She sucked on her taste, her personal flavor. Her eyes remained shut, the moans that came from her lips breathy and devoid of vocal aid.

She repeated the process, each time her hand was lifted back to her mouth more difficult than the last. Her left hand took turns with each breast, giving them equal attention as they caressed, pinched, and pleasured. Ahri's tails had become fluid, all of the energy reserved within her channeled into delivering bliss to course through her body.

Her breathing quickened with her heartbeat. Her movements grew increasingly desperate, animalistic. She fingered more vigorously, moving her digits to caress her clitoris. The breathy exclamations rose in volume, mounting with the pleasure that had demanded all of her senses to be stimulated.

Ahri's entire frame writhed in desperation, teeth marks on her fingers as she could feel her climax begin to approach her. By now all areas of her skin was glistening in sweat, a small trail of saliva trickling on the side of her mouth.

She kept her hand in the warmth of her inner folds, uncaring of how wet the area of fabric below her entry had gotten. Her fingers echoed the sound of flesh on flesh, wet and fast. Full-volume moans ensued from her lips as the peaks of her bliss began to spike higher and higher still, her head lolling from side to side.

Suddenly her gut tightened, all of the muscles surrounding her nether regions fluctuating. Ahri gasped, her back arching upwards, her ribcage pushed out against its fleshy prison. Her left hand applied extra pressure onto her nipple, pinching it until it felt numb. Her right hand continued its ministrations, its thumb now vigorously swirling and exerting excess force onto her clitoris. This action finally pushed Ahri over the edge. One millisecond before the imminent release, time stopped, Ahri's eyes open wide, a long raspy intake of air retrieved before she held her breath.

Then it burst forth all at once. A hot surge of stickiness covered her hand, her cum shooting forth to spray the insides of her upper thighs; the clear essence latching onto the panties bundled around them. Her lungs felt like they collapsed, albeit having oxygen being held prisoner within them. The breath Ahri held was released as a scream of pleasure, her entire body pushing upward in fluctuating waves. A tail found itself within her mouth, and she bit down on it, shutting her eyes as she rode out the rest of her climax. Sweat mixed with the juices below, a large stain of wetness covering the bed sheet below her.

Finally her right hand ceased its movement, falling to her side, exhausted. Ahri panted, her spine reasserting itself to its straightness. She felt cold, wet, and not even close to satisfied.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, more intakes of air following it.

She lay there for several minutes, staring at the ceiling, thinking of how far she had fallen. Then, just before her right hand could lift itself up to position itself above her entrance once more, she felt a familiar magical presence.

Not only that, she couldn't move. Ahri recognized the sensation, blue rings beginning to enclose around her, a beam of focused arcane energy shining through the center of her body. This was the spell Summoners used to Summon Champions to the Fields.

But why now? Questions began to arise within the fox's brain as she was transported to Summoner's Rift, her sapphire-hued essence orb tailing behind her through the channel of magical transportation. All the matches were concluded, nobody should be using the fields at this hour.

Ahri felt lightheaded, her entire body vaporized for a second. She could only see the blue wisps of magic whisking her away before they finally faded, revealing the Summoning platform of Summoner's Rift.

She lay there, not really in shock, just mostly in surprise. Her golden eyes took in her surroundings, before being interrupted by the sight of the Maven of the Strings and the Fist of Shadow. Sona was kneeling, dressed in lingerie, crying. Akali was trying her best to comfort her, her eyes looking around to find an explanation to what was happening.

That was when her emerald pupils met Ahri's curious gaze. The look that the ninja gave the fox could only be described as one of bewilderment. Sona looked up from her tears, and she too gave Ahri the same look, her face looking pitiful with its trails of tears.

Ahri returned the look with a cock of the head.

"What?" she asked. They were looking at her as if she was wearing a dress entirely composed of poultry and steak.

Suddenly her eyes drifted downward, where her hand was poised to enter her sodden womanhood; she had completely forgotten her personal appearance.

"Oh," Ahri said with a grin, a small blush gracing her cheeks. Her nine tails quickly wrapped themselves around her, and she giggled.

"Well, this is embarrassing."

* * *

_There you have it. The long-awaited second chapter. So. This was actually _hell _to write. I'm not very good at writing masturbation when it comes to females, or yuri in general, so this story's going to be a challenge for me. Thanks to all of you guys for your support. I'm also planning to not update this until it at least has 10 favorites. Sounds attention-whorish, I know, but I just want to see if people appreciate this concept of Summoning Sex. No point in writing a story that I don't enjoy writing and people don't enjoy reading._

_Anywho, expect several more updates this coming month. Next, we have an update chronicling the sexual frustration of two certain ninjas…_

_Excelsior!_


End file.
